


where things go naturally

by ohcinnamon



Series: the "financial aid marriage" AU [2]
Category: Smosh
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Sequel, i finally finished it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 13:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15730812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcinnamon/pseuds/ohcinnamon
Summary: Married life was a small price to pay for financial bliss. All in all, they’ve got a pretty sweet deal working for them. There’s only one problem.Damien has been suppressing a huge crush on his husband.





	where things go naturally

**Author's Note:**

> the long awaited sequel to symptoms of the culture is finally here!! thank you for being so patient; i'm so happy with how this turned out, honestly. we love soft boys!
> 
> (title from "sit next to me" by foster the people)

When the scholarships came through, it’s like all of Damien’s worries vanished.

They’re able to go to school without worrying about drowning in student debt, which is always good. They’ve both got work-study jobs on campus — Damien in the library; Shayne in the literature office — which will help with any expenses that may pop up unexpectedly. Their new apartment is fairly nice, too; they’ve made friends with the next-door neighbors, Joshua and Wes, and it’s not far from campus. Married life was a small price to pay for financial bliss. All in all, they’ve got a pretty sweet deal working for them. There’s only one problem.

Damien has been suppressing a huge crush on his husband.

Now, normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, some people might consider it a good thing to have feelings for their spouse. They, however, are not in the same position as Damien and Shayne, who are only married to gain more financial aid for college. And if Damien were to admit his feelings, which are probably unrequited, there’s a good chance Shayne might freak out about it and ask to get a divorce sooner than they’ve planned — which is a whole other obstacle that’s also throwing him for a loop.

This is one of the reasons, among others, why he ends up having a panic attack at 2 AM one cold winter night, standing in the middle of their kitchen with the lights off, pacing back and forth across the freezing tile. The streetlight across the parking lot flickers on and off, like it’s trying to talk to him, and it takes him a couple of minutes to convince himself that it _isn’t_. He’s halfway through convincing himself not to smack his head against the countertop because “at least then he’d be unconscious” when a door down the hallway softly shuts, and he knows he’s not alone.

“Dames?” Shayne rasps, rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he flicks the kitchen light on. “What are you still doing up? You okay?”

“My…” Damien says, his voice trailing off. He lifts up his hands, palms up, and gives them to Shayne, doing his best to keep them from trembling. They’re going numb with the absolute _panic_ he feels in his chest, but now he can’t open his mouth to begin with. He can only hope that Shayne knows what he means from past experience.

Fortunately, he seems to understand exactly what Damien means, because half the time they don’t need words to communicate, anyway. Shayne is soft with him now, in ways he hadn’t been before. He wraps one arm around his waist; uses his free hand to (messily) make chamomile tea, just the way Damien likes it. All the while, he keeps murmuring things softly, rambling on about nothing at all to keep Damien’s brain occupied. It’s working a lot, actually, and he wonders when Shayne got so good at being gentle with him.

He even _looks_ soft; caramel colored bangs falling in his face, cheeks pink from being so tired, hoodie sleeves falling over his hands. It’s like, suddenly, the light has begun to hit him differently, and Damien can’t look away. Shayne hands him his cup of tea, gentle but firm. “Drink this, okay? It should calm you down.”

And it does. Shayne stays with him as he takes small sips and goes through his breathing exercises, and he feels the knot in his stomach begin to untangle itself. Everything is going to be okay.

“Thank you for this,” Damien finally says, after he’s finished about half of his tea. “It means a lot to me.”

“It’s really no problem,” Shayne reassures him, giving him a sleepy smile. “You know you’ve always got me.”

 _I really wish I could kiss you to thank you right now_ , Damien thinks, and… well, that’s new. He usually knows how to use words to thank people, no need for kissing to be involved. “Okay, still. That was really sweet of you. I appreciate it a lot.”

“I got you, Dami,” Shayne mumbles, leaning forward and nuzzling his nose into Damien’s shoulder. _What the fuck?_ The “bronuzzle,” as they’d deemed it so long ago, used to be an exclusively-Damien thing. _Who kidnapped my best friend and replaced him with this guy?_ “You should go to bed, you know. You have class in the morning.”

“So do you,” Damien murmurs, gently setting the mug on the kitchen counter so that he doesn’t shatter the moment.

They’re so close, and the atmosphere is electric. It would be _so easy_ to lean in and kiss him, soft and sleepy and serene. He could chalk it up to sleep deprivation, if he wanted to. _So_ easy.

“Go to _bed_ ,” Shayne says, finally drawing away, and Damien suddenly feels cold without his warmth. “Come on, we gotta sleep. I’ll make breakfast if you promise me you’ll try to sleep now.”

“I’m holding you to that,” Damien says, earning one last soft smile from Shayne before he turns and walks back to his own bedroom. He runs his thumb over the ring on his finger, the one he’s never taken off since the day of their wedding, even though it’s not supposed to mean anything, and sighs. Nothing can ever be simple for him, can it?

 

* * *

 

Valentine’s Day comes before he knows it, and it dawns on him then just how gone on Shayne he is.

“It’s the big day,” Shayne says nonchalantly, never looking up from the TV, where his ass has been parked for most of the day. “V-Day, y’know. Got any big plans tonight? Hot date?”

“No date, actually,” Damien says, sifting through the mail on their table. “The schedule tonight is pretty open.”

It’s not like Damien hasn’t tried to get over him, because he has. They’ve both tried dating, but it isn’t working out too well. Apparently, already being married to someone, even if it is just for financial aid, is a dealbreaker to a lot of people.

“Shocking,” Shayne deadpans, his voice monotone. “So you’re spending Valentine’s Day with me, then?”

“Looks like it,” Damien replies, trying to keep his heart from fluttering at that. Of _course_ they’re spending the holiday together; they fucking _live together_. “You all right with that, _baby boy_?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Shayne grumbles at the long-standing nickname, badly masking his smile. “I won’t be if you call me _that_ again.”

“Sorry, I won’t call you _that_ anymore. I’ll still call you _baby boy_ , though.”

“Oh my god, you’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, and you love me.”

The evening passes without too much anxiety; they mostly sit on the couch and play _Nidhogg_ , their specialty, and Shayne orders pizza — “his treat”, he says. He’s been oddly sweet all day, but Damien decides not to say anything about it. Shayne’s almost being… romantic, actually, in his own way, if he thinks about it, and that’s something that has never occurred to him before.

And then he’s just sitting there, staring at Shayne instead of the TV, and he loses three rounds of _Nidhogg_ in a row, but he doesn’t _care_ because _oh my god_ , is he trying to _send a message_? Damien’s getting mixed signals all over the place, and he’s so on edge that he feels like he’s going to jump straight out of his skin. Literally _anything_ would be better than the tension he’s feeling right now — and the worst part is that Shayne probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

In the back of his mind, it hits Damien that he hasn’t kissed his _husband_ since their _wedding_ , which is a thought he’d never imagined himself having. Then again, there also stands the fact that he never thought he’d have a husband, much less have Shayne as said husband, but _still._ It’s Valentine’s Day, and he wants to kiss the person he married. That’s not a crime, is it?

 _Just do it_ , Damien thinks, still gazing at him instead of the TV. _Just kiss him. If he doesn’t want to, he’ll push you away. You can pretend it never happened. But you won’t know unless you try._

Shayne turns to him, breaking his train of thought. They’re still way too close for comfort; when Shayne’s _right there,_  how could he not do something? “Here, you can choose where we play for the next round. I’ll step back — unless you want to take a break?”

Damien shakes his head, pushing away the controller Shayne’s offering him, and thinks, _kiss him now, like you mean it._ His gaze flickers down to Shayne’s mouth, and he watches those blue eyes go wide in realization. Before either of them can say anything stupid that might ruin the moment, he closes his eyes and leans in, and it feels exactly the way it did at their wedding: nerve-racking, earth-shattering anxiety.

Their lips meet, and Shayne jumps a little bit, surprised, but to Damien’s astonishment, he doesn’t pull away — he tilts his head and kisses back _hard_ , like this is something he’s been prepared for. He drops the controller in favor of pulling Damien close, deepening the kiss even more. This doesn’t feel like the first time they kissed; this is longing, desperate, like they’re both afraid they’ll never get this chance again.

Shayne hums out a soft, needy sound, and Damien’s stomach flips. He tentatively slides a hand under his shirt, drawing it gently up his back, and Shayne lets out a sharp exhale. It’s some kind of fascinating — Damien never imagined he could have so much of an effect on him, and yet here they are, and Shayne’s pretty much melting under his hands. No hesitation, no questions; there’s only right now.

Shayne tentatively splays one hand against Damien’s chest, pushes him back until he’s laying down, repositions himself so that he’s propped up on his elbows. “You okay? Is this okay?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Damien breathes, feeling a sharp pang of _want_ in his chest. “You should, uh. You should kiss me again. If you want to, that is.”

“Well, that’s the plan,” Shayne murmurs, leaning back in slowly, hesitantly. _He’s giving me time to back out,_ Damien realizes, feeling his expression go soft. _He’s giving me a chance to push him away._

Instead, Damien slides one hand into his hair, meets him halfway, and kisses him sweetly. This is what he wants, he’s sure of that. It’s his first time kissing a boy, not to mention someone he’s been friends with for _seven years_. It’s also his first time kissing someone he’s crossing his fingers and really, really hoping he gets to kiss again.

And then it hits him. He’s making out with Shayne, the man he married, on their couch, in their apartment. _Oh my god._

“Okay, bear with me, because this sounds so cliché, but… there are so many times I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time,” Shayne murmurs, pulling back to breathe. “ _So many times._ ”

“Why didn’t you?” Damien asks, unable to help the small smile on his face.

“Why didn’t _you_?” Shayne counters, beaming right back down at him. “You remember the way I kissed you then.”

“I was nervous that you didn’t actually like me like that and you were just showing off for our friends,” Damien pants, still trying to catch his breath (both figuratively and literally). “I mean, we’ve been best friends for so long, I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

“Please, you know I’m whipped for you,” Shayne sighs, collapsing on Damien’s chest. “I mean, I said that I’d always do the dishes _in our vows_ , you idiot.”

“Vows that we made up on the spot,” Damien retorts, but he still wraps his arms tightly around Shayne’s waist, keeping him as close as possible. Now that he’s got Shayne in his arms, he doesn’t want to let go. “Hey… you should sleep in my bed tonight. Stay with me.”

“Of course. Oh, and Damien?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, fucker.”

 

* * *

 

What was formerly Damien’s bedroom has somewhat become _their_ bedroom, since Shayne sleeps in the same bed as him a good 95% of the time. It’s sort of an interesting situation, falling into this whole “dating” thing when they’re already technically married, but… it’s something they’re figuring out one day at a time.

They’re a lot _closer_ now, in ways that Damien hadn’t expected in the beginning. The most obvious change is in their physical contact, which has long surpassed longing stares in the hallway, and instead transitioned to “if I wake up at noon, I can make out with my boyfriend for a while _and_ get lunch before I have to go to class at two.” Sleeping in the same bed, it seems, has changed a lot of things.

For example, Damien doesn’t get to be loud very often. He doesn’t like most loud noises; the volume makes him nervous, uncomfortable. But in the bedroom? That’s a whole different story. He talks, babbles, whimpers, moans — he’s very good at audio feedback, or so he’s been told. It’s something most people wouldn’t expect from him, and something that Shayne had seemed delighted to find out.

Shayne, on the other hand, is almost the complete opposite. Shayne is loud on a daily basis, his indoor voice often being the same as his outdoor voice, when he’s comfortable. But the moment he’s in bed he goes quiet, the loudest he gets being low, repetitive whispers ( _please, please, pleasepleaseplease_ ). His breathing is what _does_ intensify, short little in-outs when he’s close, sharp inhales that Damien loves to feel against his lips. He sighs out soft, sweet moans sometimes, and Damien _melts_ for it.

Like now, after they’re both finished, and Shayne nuzzles his face into Damien’s shoulder, too tired to shower. He lets out a content sigh, wrapping an arm around Damien’s torso, and Damien thinks his heart might explode.

And there’s the other main change; it’s all in the sweet, warm ache in his chest when Shayne pulls him in and mumbles “let’s not get up yet, you’re so warm,” and kisses his shoulder softly. Damien feels himself melting straight through their mattress, knows he’s blushing uncontrollably, but he can’t help it. He lives for waking up and having Sunday mornings like these, where he’s so, so happy he thinks he might be a combustion risk. He rolls over, wrapping both arms around Shayne, and holds him tight, burying his smile in his hair. He’s never getting out of bed, not when he has this.

Springtime has never felt so beautiful.

 

* * *

 

Despite having a best friend/boyfriend/husband (a 3-in-1 deal!), Boze is still Damien’s emergency contact in all non-life-threatening situations… which is why Damien immediately calls her to have coffee when he realizes he’s fallen in love with Shayne. She tells him to give her an hour, and then they’re at the campus café together, and Damien is spilling his guts, and Boze, bless her, is the best listener in the world, even though he’s probably not explaining anything very well at all.

“So… you’re _dating_ your _husband_ now,” Boze says, a smug smile on her face. “It seems like you might be working backward. Have y’all… _y’know_?”

“Oh my god, I’m not telling you about my sex life,” Damien mumbles, feeling his cheeks begin to flush. As dumb as this whole thing sounds, it’s a real problem, and it’s not like Google has any good answer to it. “And also… don’t make fun of me. It’s an interesting process, figuring out how to date your husband. I’d like to see you try realizing you’re in love with someone _after_ you’re already married.”

Boze shrugs. “I mean, it wasn’t hard to see. Everyone knew you were in love except the two of you. It’s almost stupid just how meant for each other you two are.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Damien waves it off, but his heart clenches. _Meant for each other?_ He’s not sure about that, but he _is_ inwardly glad he’s the guy Shayne decided to marry for financial benefit in the first place. “Speaking of ‘meant for each other,’ how’s Courtney?”

Boze goes bashful, dropping her gaze to her coffee, and Damien knows he’s got her. “I mean, you know, not to quote you, but… it’s an interesting process. I’m thinking about asking her to go with me to the Overwatch esports finals.”

“Nerd,” Damien teases, unable to stop the grin crossing his face. “I’m _kidding._ She’ll love it as much as she loves you.”

“She does _not_ love me,” Boze insists, flipping him the bird. “Not like Shayne loves you, anyway. _That’s_ a smitten kitten if I’ve ever seen one.”

“What do you mean?” Damien asks, setting his drink down in disbelief.

“...you don’t know?” Boze asks, dumbfounded. When Damien doesn’t reply, her eyes go wide, and she nearly chokes on her coffee. “Wait, fuck, you really don’t know. Okay, Dames, I’m going to put it simply for you, because I know you’re very, very clueless when it comes to these things: Shayne is totally in love with you. Like, head over heels, buddy.”

“Are you sure?” Damien asks, feeling his cheeks heat up all over again — _Jesus,_ his face might as well be _on fire_. "Because, like, what if he's not?"

Boze sighs, grabbing his hands. “Damien, I love you. You know I do. But you are actually the _most oblivious person I have ever met._ ”

“So… what do I do about that?” Damien is honestly, truly, at a loss for what to do. He’s never really been good at this kind of thing. “Should I like… buy him a bird?”

“...Damien. A _bird_?”

“I don’t know!” he exclaims, flustered and confused. “Seriously, you have to tell me what to do here.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” Boze says, holding her hand out to shake on it. “If I ask Courtney out on a date, you have to tell Shayne you love him. You promise?”

Damien hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek, before finally giving in and shaking her hand. “I _guess_ that makes sense.”

“Of course it does!” Boze says, leaning back in the booth with a smirk on her face. “What could you possibly have to lose?”

 

* * *

 

It’s 2 AM, and they’re laying in bed after a _Game of Thrones_ binge, and Shayne is curled into Damien’s chest, and Damien swears he feels like he could fly right now, and everything is _right_ with the world.

The episode they’re currently watching ends, and almost as if on cue, Shayne yawns, stretching over his head. Damien shuts the laptop in response, then reaches over the side of the bed to turn the lamp off. “Well, if you’re that tired, we’re going to bed.”

“Sounds good, baby,” Shayne mumbles, his voice low with sleep, and the pet name _still_ makes Damien’s heart do somersaults.

They end up tangled together in no time, because the best way to sleep is when you can’t tell where your arms are — a personal favorite game of Damien’s is, “ _is that my boyfriend’s hand, or mine: my arms fell asleep so long ago that now I can’t tell_.” He ends up with one hand in Shayne’s hair and one squished beneath them, but that’s okay; he likes it that way.

“Earth to Dami,” Shayne says after a moment of silence, shifting so that he can find Damien’s free hand and hold it beneath the sheets. “What are you thinking about?”

Damien’s heart is so full it feels like it’s going to burst, and the sharp ache in his chest makes it hard to breathe, but in the best kind of way. He’s choking on it, the thickness of the unspoken _I love you, I love you, I love you_ in the air.

“Nothing really, I just realized something,” Damien murmurs, carding his fingers through Shayne’s hair. Shayne hums in content and closes his eyes, leaning into the touch, and it makes Damien’s chest fill and hold. He’s in so, so deep already; he might as well say it. “Hey… I just want you to know that I love you.”

“I love you too,” Shayne responds automatically, not even flinching at the confession.

Damien frowns, because Shayne doesn’t get it. “No, I mean, like… I’ve always told you that I love you, but this is me telling you that _I_ _love you_. Like, as in, _I’m in love with you_.”

“I know,” Shayne says, finally opening his eyes, a small smile on his face. “And this is me saying that _I_ _love you too_. I thought that much was obvious by now.”

“You know I’m horribly oblivious,” Damien retorts, but he can’t help but grin. That’s pretty much the best response he could’ve gotten, and definitely not the one he expected. “You have to tell me things if you want me to get them. You _know_ that.”

“I mean, I’ve had a crush on you for forever,” Shayne says, casually, like that’s a normal thing you can just _say_ to somebody. He stops, meets Damien’s gaze dead-on, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I could’ve chosen any of our friends. Why do you think I asked _you_ to marry me?”

And yeah, okay, that’s a valid point. It’s also very possible that Damien wants to kiss him into oblivion just for saying it.

So… he does, because he _can_ do that, because they’re _married_ — the real, in-love kind.

 

* * *

 

It’s two weeks from graduation, and Damien is in the same spot he was two and a half years ago — having a panic attack in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Shayne, by chance, is also there, holding both of Damien’s hands in his own. His expression is sad and worried, and he intertwines their fingers, gently squeezing Damien’s hands. “Babe, what’s wrong? I don’t know how to help if you don’t tell me.”

And it sounds stupid, _so_ stupid, but Damien can’t get it out of his head. They’re nearing the end of college, which means Shayne won’t technically need him anymore. He can’t let this go. Shayne is the one thing that he’s been certain about for as long as he can remember; he can’t lose the best thing that ever happened to him.

“We’re about to graduate,” Damien says, fumbling nervously with the hem of his shirt. It sounds even stupider, now that he’s saying it out loud, but it’s been tearing him up inside for months. “And… this. Us. I… what happens when you don’t need me anymore?”

“What, you seriously think I still want to carry through with that stupid divorce?” Shayne asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “We made that agreement nearly three years ago, and we’ve been romantically involved for about two and a half of those years, now. That’s not even counting the fact that I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon.”

Damien bites the inside of his cheek, nodding, the tears he’s holding back burning his eyes. Shayne, who knows him better than he knows himself, can see that he was clearly on the verge of a panic attack, and immediately pulls him into his arms, where the world stops spinning. He’s always safe there. Always. “Look at me, baby,” Shayne murmurs, cupping his face gently. “I know your anxiety is killing you, so I’m gonna say it clearly, so there’s no confusion. _I love you_. I want to stay married to you.”

“You sure?” Damien asks, half-joking, half-serious. “Because this is what you get. Forever.”

Shayne kisses him, and it’s just as perfect as the first time, feels like they’re falling in love all over again. “I know who I married,” he says, genuine sweetness in his gaze. “And I think he’s pretty wonderful. I don’t really wanna break up with him, ever, even when he cheats at _Mario Party_.”

“I don’t cheat at _Mario Party_ ,” Damien retorts, feeling some of the anxiety in his stomach uncoil. “You’re just that bad at it.”

“See? I knew you would say that; like I said, I know who I married,” Shayne answers, his expression warm and open. “In fact, I think we should renew our vows. Y’know, do it seriously this time. I’m a dramatic little bitch, and I want to show off how in love we are.”

“Okay, but only if Noah gets to officiate again,” Damien jokes, and that makes Shayne laugh so hard he nearly doubles over. “I’m _serious_! He’d probably be better at it this time. And you _know_ Boze and Courtney will kill us if they don’t get to plan the whole thing.”

“I love you, idiot,” Shayne mumbles bashfully, a smile on his face so sweet that it makes Damien melt for him all over again. “Let’s not get divorced, and let’s renew our vows, and let’s have a _real_ wedding this time.”

“Okay,” Damien says, still dizzy with euphoria. “I think I’d like that.”


End file.
